A crying, unseen baby on the train. The smell of stale alcohol. A tall man staggered into the train just before the doors closed; his sweatshirt is pulled, darkened from sweat and grime around the collar. He stands, lips dry and parted, gasping like a fish out of water, except he is deathly still. I…
Go West.
I am Laura Ingalls Wilder. I am a bit of Anne of Green Gables too, because I came here, to New York, an orphan from the familiar. “'Sorry, it just isn't working out,” they said while I was jetlagged, just back from a trip to the sunny, smiley and hard land, California. I thought they…
Captain
He stood playing a red Fender Stratocaster, an instrument more commonly seen on stages in front of thousands, or in the corners of teenage bedrooms thrumming with impossible dreams. His Burger King crown would have looked ridiculous but he was the king of this subway station stage despite playing this mournful, misplaced riff to people…
Silver Bells
I suddenly remembered that map I left attached to my fridge when it was too late and we had to take a look at directions again. Yet it was also too early and the wind was not as biting as it tends to be this time of year, so I shrugged, took your hand in…
Being Present I
If being mindful were easy, we would all walk around like beatific, beaming Buddhas, fully aware and pulsing with energy. In New York, people would operate in a more calm manner, assessing the present situation rather than rushing to the next thing - the next event, email, Instagrammed dinner, date that might have half a…
Time's Thievish Progress 